


girls do it better

by magnetocent



Category: DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Barry Allen Is A Human Vibrator, Clubbing, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, do not copy to another site, sorta - Freeform, top Hal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-11-15 19:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetocent/pseuds/magnetocent
Summary: barb and harriett have been friends for a long time. things change, they have sex. same ol' halbarry story but with a gender change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mc_dude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mc_dude/gifts).



It’s been a while since Barb and Harriett have been able to spend time together, just the two of them.  

Not that Barb is ungrateful for the group of superheroines she calls friends, or being able to hang out with them so often. She’s never really had much in the way of friends, and less so in the way of  _female_  ones, so having a large supportive group like she does now is more than what her younger self could have ever asked. 

It’s just – other than Iris, Harriett is her closest friend. She’s the first hero she met as one herself. They worked together countless times. And despite their differences, there’s an unseen understanding between them, an unbreakable trust. Barb feels like she can talk about anything and everything with Harriett, without judgement. At the same time, Harriett understands her need for privacy, for secrets. She doesn’t try to get Barb to talk like Iris does so often. To open up in ways she’s not comfortable doing – at least not intentionally. Those conversations can always come through natural progression. They can take their time and reveal themselves at their own pace. It’s why she cherishes her time with her friend so much. That’s what she tells herself. 

Today Harriett invited her to come to Coast City for some sun and surf. Barb isn’t fond of too much sun, and doesn’t really surf, but she agrees anyway. It’s a beautiful day, and the water is bright and calming. Harriett takes them to their private spot behind the rock wall on the northside of the beach, and Barb feels confident enough to take off the large shirt she wore over her one-piece. Only a bit of her scar is visible around her shoulder and neck, but she still feels embarrassed showing it. But when Harriett helps her put sunscreen on, her fingers play over it gently, in a way that makes Barb almost proud of it. For surviving something so terrible and coming out the other side stronger than ever. 

Right now, she watches as Harriett moves through the water. How she glides easily over a wave on her board, her long brown hair slicked back and sticking over her shoulders. The sun reflects off her tanned skin, letting it contrast nicely with the green of her bikini. Barb adjusts her hat as her cheeks redden from something other than the sun, and she buries her nose into her knees. 

She sees the wipeout coming moments before it happens in real time, and she resists the urge to speed over the water and catch Harriett, bringing her safe and dry to shore. She did it once before, and heard an earful about it afterward. It took a little while to learn that Harriett likes the wipeout. Likes the rough and tumble pain of sports and fights. Shows off her bruises like gold medals as proof of her resilience.  

As if Green Lantern and former Captain Harriett “High Ball” Jordan of the US Air Force needs to prove anything to anyone.  

So, she lets her hit the waves. She comes out of them laughing and swearing a minute later. Barb can’t help the small smile that curves her lips. She lets her legs stretch out and leans back on her arms as Harriett makes her way back to the shore with her board. The muscle in her arms and legs glisten with every movement, and Barb feels heat spread low between her legs. She squeezes her thighs together and forces a smile.  

“Fun?” she asks. Harriett gives her smirk and sticks the board in the sand.  

“Always is,” she replies, a bit breathless. Barb hums and closes her eyes, tilting her head back to look like she’s enjoying the sun rather than trying not to stare.  

A long time ago, she would have avoided any activity like this with any woman to keep from having thoughts like the ones crossing her mind right now. And that may be a reason why she had a hard time making friends before, because of her fear of thinking this way. Of being  _caught_  thinking this way. It was only when Iris asked her about her feelings for her that she really admitted it to herself. And it was only when she started hanging out with Harriett that she started to really accept herself.  

Unfortunately, that acceptance turned into another, unattainable crush. Harriett is unabashedly bisexual, sure, but Barb is a bit of a boring geek. She has small breasts and a plain face. No curves and according to Iris, she dresses horribly. Harriett is – Barb opens her eyes and glances over to where her friend decided to sprawl out in the sun. Well, Harriett is a bombshell. She’s a pilot. She surfs and drives muscle cars and motorcycles. She’s way out of Barb’s league in every way.  

Harriett tells her that she’s a ‘soft butch’ -- whatever that means – and lots of gay women like it. That she has that cute nerd thing going on, and she’s funny and kind, but Barb’s severe lack of girlfriends tells her that those things probably don’t matter much.  

Sighing, she shakes the thoughts from her head. No need to spoil the day. She turns over to lie on her stomach, and rests her head on her hands, watching her friend air dry on her towel. Harriett turns her head and gazes at her over the rims of her aviators.  

“Bored already?” she asks with a smirk.  

“You know I get restless,” Barb replies, bending her legs up and kicking them around.  

Harriett chuckles, “Go for a run. I’m relaxing.” 

“Can’t you relax somewhere else?” Barb gripes, hand reaching to pull out the wedgie she got from turning over, and grimacing at the gritty feeling on her skin, “Somewhere I won’t get sand in every crevice.” 

Harriett laughs again, louder this time, and Barb feels herself grin, too. Then she shifts over her towel and that gritty feeling is back, trickling its way under the still damp fabric of her suit.  

“I hate sand.” 

“Alright, Anakin.” Harriett says, sitting up and pushing her sunglasses to sit on top of her head, “There’s a club near here. Lots of pretty ladies to look at. We’ll get dressed up and go get a drink.” 

She stands and grabs her towel as the words process in Barb’s head. It’s not the first time they’ve gone to a club together, but it’s not something that Barb thinks when she uses the word ‘relax’. She’d more likely use something completely opposite of ‘relax’. Tense. Anxious. Absolutely terrified. Last time there were so many women, unabashedly free to be themselves. It was exhilarating, but overwhelming. And Barb has never been a club or party person. Never been her scene, preferring home or the lab or a coffee shop. But— 

Those aren’t really places she can find women like her—not in Missouri. It can be dangerous, though she can more hold her own in those circumstances, she just worries about the other women that don’t have powers. Clubs are her best bet for a safe space to find someone that she can be with and get over her stupid crushes. Someone that actually likes her back, and she could start a family and have a home with, though it seems kind of like wishful thinking.  

Still, she was looking forward to spending the day with Harriett, that was the point of her trip here. But she figures maybe they can stick together and just have drinks, do some dancing. There will be plenty more time to put herself out there. She purses her lips before answering, “Sure, ok.”  

Harriett grins, holds out her hand to help Barb stand, “Cool.” 

 

It takes longer than necessary to get ready to go out. Barb didn’t really plan for it, and only brought a change of clothes for the next day. She offers to go home and get a nice blouse, but Harriett nixes the idea when she sees what was packed in the first place. Capris and a pale blue polo, what’s so bad about _that_? 

They end up going for a quick shopping trip that resulted in arguing for ten minutes over whether that satin thing was a dress or a slip -- ultimately agreeing that whatever it was, _you can’t wear it in public,_ _Hal –_ and searching three stores for an outfit for Barb. Eventually, they choose a patterned button-up that she actually likes, and she agrees to the black pants and slip on shoes Harriett offers with it. And if she’s being honest, she actually thinks she’s pretty attractive wearing the outfit. Up until Harriett walks out of her room in her skin-tight high-rise jeans and an iridescent cropped tank. Then she can’t really think about anything at all. 

They mess with their hair a bit, and dab on some make-up. Harriett helps Barb style her short ‘do, and shapes her eyebrows a bit before wrapping her arm around her waist and bringing them in together in front of the mirror.  

“Look at us,” she says, and winks when Barb gives her a shy grin, “Cute.” 

 

By the time they leave, it’s already dark out. They opt to take a cab to the club, after Harriett explains that it’s the busiest and brightest place in town at night, so there’s no real way to keep discrete. The driver tries the entire time to flirt with her, but she blows him off like every other guy that doesn’t try to hide his ogling gaze. He asks what she’s doing later when he drops them off, and she replies with a short ‘Not you’, and walks away without paying the fare. Barb sheepishly picks it up when the man starts shouting at them – not bothering to tip – and rushes to keep up with her friend. 

“Bar, you should have left it,” Harriett says, scowling when she joins her side. 

“I know, Hal,” Barb explains, “But he did his job driving us here. We can’t just not pay.” 

Harriett scowls deeper, but doesn’t bother to argue further. Barb feels guilty still, wrapping both hands around Harriett’s elbow gently and resting her cheek on her shoulder for a second. Harriett’s gaze softens, her mouth evening out into a soft smile as she gazes down at her.  

“I’m sorry,” Barb apologizes, “I’ll make it up to you with a drink or two?” 

Harriett’s smile grows as she looks away. She sighs, “Ah, alright. But you also owe me a dance. Deal?” 

Barb hesitates, but nods, “Deal.” 

They continue the short way down to the club, Barb keeping her grasp on Harriett’s arm as they weave through the bustling sidewalk. It’s early, but the night has clearly only just begun. A couple of drag queens puff on cigarettes outside a venue advertising a burlesque show. A group of young men in their clubbing outfits piles out of another cab. Kids who look far too young to be drinking do so on the curb and in alleys, hiding their bottles in plastic bags. Right before Harriett turns them into their building, a strong whiff of marijuana blows past them. Barb has to squeeze her eyes shut to regain her bearings as they step inside.  

It’s a bit quieter in the club. The music is loud, but not as loud as it can and will be later on. There are a few patrons milling around the bar, and half the tables and booths are still open as of yet. Harriett moves to grab one, and lets Barb know she wants a rum and coke and a beer. It seems she didn’t need to though, as when Barb goes to tell the barman, he slides the brew and full tumbler over to her.  

“Oh!” she says, and smiles politely, “Thank you.” 

“Hal’s a regular,” he explains, “But I haven’t seen her around lately. You been keeping her busy?” 

Barb thinks back over the past few weeks. Their run-in with the Legion of Doom, and the week Harriett was gone to keep Sinestro from colonizing an economically fragile planet. She shrugs sheepishly as she grabs the two drinks, not giving a real answer. Instead, she orders a regular pop and balances it with the others.  

The barman shakes his head, chrome earrings shining in the multi-coloured lights, “You poor thing. I’ll get your first round, sweetie.” 

Barb’s eyebrows furrow, but she smiles again and thanks him before heading to the back-corner booth Harriett is sprawled out in. She sets down the drinks and moves into the seat, as Harriett grabs the beer and downs half of it in two swigs.  

“Ok, slow down,” Barb scolds, pressing her hand to Harriett’s wrist.  

Her friend rolls her eyes, “Sorry, I’m still a bit pissed about that asshole.” 

She drinks again, a shorter sip this time, “Just wait until Oliver hears about this! You’ll have a shiny new arrow in your butt.” 

“I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight just to keep your mouth shut,” Barb pleads. Harriett smiles, and purses her lips in consideration. Her expression is just exaggerated enough for Barb to catch on to her scheme fairly quick. 

“Oh, I see,” she says, “That’s what you want, yeah? I don’t believe you’re blackmailing me for booze.” 

Harriett shrugs, lower lip pouting out as she twirls her bottle around with her fingers, “Can you really take that chance, though?” 

“When it comes to risking Oliver screaming about sisterhood and feminism at me, never.” Barb replies, “Don’t run the tab up too high, though.” 

Harriett beams at her, “Thanks, babe.” 

She leans over, pressing a quick peck to Barb’s cheek. Her breasts push lightly into her arm. Barb feels heat gather in her cheeks and is grateful for the dim lighting.  

“Anytime, honey.” 

 

It takes all of a half hour for the place to fill up and the music to start blaring. It must be ladies’ night because there’s nary a man in sight other than the one bartender, and what must be a few of his friends at the bar. It’s a little overwhelming if Barb is being honest. Harriet was right, there are a lot of pretty girls to look at. Tall and short, thick and thin and everything in between. All in various states of dress and undress. They all look way more comfortable here than Barb does, many milling about and inserting themselves into whatever groups they want. It’s completely unlike the club they went to in Central City, where the women would sit at their tables and glance over their shoulders, shy and coy, at other tables until someone gained the confidence to walk over.  

It made Barb feel better about her own nervousness being there, and she almost preferred it to this place as much as Harriett went on about how sad it was to watch. It was hard for Barb to understand why she would think that until now, seeing how confident these women here tonight are being. Suddenly Barb feels a bit sad too, that the women back home can’t be this way, and even more anxious about being here.  

Harriett gets up to mingle and share dances over the next couple hours, coming back every once in a while, to talk or ask about having another beer. Sometimes she’ll bring someone with her, introduced as a friend, and Barb will chat a bit and be nice, but she just feels even more out of place with every pitying smile or smug look they give her.  

Eventually, Harriett spends most of her time dancing, and Barb almost feels grateful for the time alone. She gets to gather her bearings and people watch without the embarrassing attention. Well, she’s still getting attention, but none that she really notices outside of the rum and cokes that keep being dropped off at her table with a wink by that bartender. She’d be more grateful if she could actually get drunk, but the thought is nice and flattering, even though she has no idea who’s sending them.  

She takes a sip of the most recent drink and watches Harriett grind with a woman to a song Barb can only recognize being by Nikki Minaj by her distinct voice. She doesn’t know what truffle butter is and judging by the disgusting lyrics, she’s not sure she wants to know. She grimaces as she listens to the last verse, but tries to hide it with a smile when a woman catches her eye and makes her way to the table.  

She’s short and stocky, with black hair and a septum piercing. She has a very handsome face, with steely blue eyes. She sits in the booth without asking first, which Barb thinks is rude, but she doesn’t say anything lest she makes herself look even more out of place. Instead, she only glances at the woman out of the corner of her eye and stiffens the smile still on her face before training her gaze back to Harriett.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she can tell the woman is still looking directly at her, possibly with the smirk still plastered over her face. After an uncomfortable moment, she speaks. 

“You let your girlfriend dance like that with other women?” she asks over the music. It’s obvious she’s talking about Harriett. Though her friend probably hasn’t noticed, Barb has been watching her almost all night. It’s not a surprise someone else has noticed and misinterpreted their relationship. 

“We’re just friends,” Barb replies, nipping that thought in the bud before it begins to bloom in her mind. The woman nods, finger tapping the rhythm of the new song on the table.  

“Ah, sure,” she says. There’s another thick pause before she speaks again, “You got half the club feeling sorry for you.” 

This gets Barb’s attention, and there’s a sharp tug of embarrassment and shame in her chest. She tries to play it off though, acting confused at the very notion, turning her head to finally look at the woman, but failing to meet her eyes. 

“What? Why?” she asks. The woman’s smirk grows a bit, and she leans in as if sharing a secret.  

“Those little puppy dog eyes following her wherever she goes,” she says, fingers pointing out toward the dance floor. She shakes her head, “Girl, you have to let it go.” 

Barb’s breath catches; she’s being too obvious, “I--We’re just--” 

“Friends. I heard,” the woman cuts her off, sneering in Harriett’s direction, “Let me tell you something. I know her. A girl like her doesn’t have _friends_. And she doesn’t have _girlfriends_. She has fuck buddies.”  

The contempt in her voice and her blunt disregard for Barb’s best friend gets her feathers ruffled. She tenses and turns her head back to the floor, “Well, clearly you don’t know her as well as you think.” 

The woman tries to lean into her field of vision, “And you do?” 

“She’s been my best friend for five years now, so yeah. I think I do.” Barb snaps at her, looking her directly in the eyes, following when the woman laughs and leans back into the booth. 

“Five years!” she cackles, “Talk about a long haul. You a prude or something?” 

Barb glares at her, “Excuse me?” 

The woman keeps her gaze steady, eyebrows raising in terrible sincerity, “What’s wrong with you? There has to be something, ‘cause she’ll fuck anything with two legs and a heartbeat.” 

All previous feelings of shame and embarrassment have faded, replaced by the pure frustration and anger Barb feels towards this woman who’s talking about her  _best friend_ like that, with so much conviction, as if she knows her. As if everything else she’s done for this world doesn’t matter because she likes to have sex. She closes her eyes, breathing slowly to calm herself so she doesn’t do anything rash. The woman doesn’t seem like the type you could argue with to get her to think differently, and Barb doesn’t feel the point to try anyway right now. Not as Harriett looks to her, and sees the woman, and immediately starts pushing through the crowd to the table.  

“I don’t appreciate you talking about her like that,” she replies shortly, “And I don’t think she would either.” 

The woman scoffs, grabbing the glass in front of Barb and drinking from it, “These drinks were a waste then, huh?” 

Barb ignores her, waiting until Harriett finally gets to the table. Her friend gives the woman a nasty sneer before turning her beautiful smile to Barb.  

“Hey, babe. Forget the zero and get with a hero.” she says, holding out her hand, “You still owe me that dance.” 

Barb smiles at her, and takes her hand as she slides out of the booth, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Harriett wraps an arm around her shoulder as they walk away, pulling her in close and Barb feels her heart rate slow back down. She concentrates on the warm and damp skin under her hand and touching her neck and breaths in the smell of her. From behind them, the woman shouts, trying to get the last word. 

“She's cute, Jordan!” she says with biting sarcasm. 

Harriett turns fully, and flips her the bird, voice slurring, “Oh, just go home and fuck your dildo already, Callahan!” 

Some other patrons stare at her incredulously, while one who seems to also know her laughs and slaps at her shoulder drunkenly. She turns back to Barb and keeps walking her to the dance floor, bringing her into the crowd of bodies and through it until they’re squashed in together somewhere in the middle. Harriett slides her hands over Barb’s shoulders, and she had no choice but to wrap hers around Harriett’s waist. Something she’s done a few times – when they’re in costume, her friend barreling back into her after a hard hit – but now seems very intimate.  

“Who is that?” Barb asks. Harriett shakes her head. 

“You got me in front of you and you’re still thinking about her?” she replies, the slur in her voice more prominent with the quieter tone. Barb shrugs her shoulder and ultimately agrees that the whole thing is better left forgotten, and she tightens her grip on her friend. 

They catch the tail end of the song, moving a bit back and forth but not really trying to get the rhythm until a new one starts up. It has the telltale sound of a remix, pieces of singing cut up and thrown in erratically and they sound familiar. Harriett’s hand come to pet at the back of Barb’s head as she smiles and swings her hips to the beat. Barb matches her movement, safely keeping her hands over the fabric of her jeans.  

 _Sleepovers in my bed_. 

The lyric rings in Barb’s head like a warning bell. Nights spent curled up with a bucket of ice cream or a full chocolate cake, listening to the original song over and over until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her breath catches, heart speeding up again, and she can’t control the sudden vibration of her hands where they sit on Harriett’s hips.  

The other woman looks at her curiously, swaying in a bit closer. She turns after a moment, pressing back into Barb. Her ass pushes back into Barb’s hips, back arching as she leans her head back. Cheeks touch, Harriett reaches a hand up to cup over Barb’s jaw and keep her there. Her other tangles in with the one Barb still has on her hip. They move, and Barb can’t breathe, her mouth dropping open just the slightest bit. Heat spreads down her stomach and between her legs. She presses her nose into Harriett’s hair, and the hand on her cheek moves to clasp at her free one.  

Harriett bends at the waist, as much as she can in the sea of people, and rubs over Barb’s hips, glancing over her shoulder before leaning back up. Then she takes Barb’s hand and drags it up, bringing it to cup at her breast. Barb gasps, and for a second, lets herself  _feel_ until she realizes what she’s doing and twitches it back down to Harriett’s waist. After another few seconds, Harriett takes that hand again and tries to dip the fingers into her pants. Barb pushes her nose against her hair again, and mutters in her ear. 

“Stop that.” 

Harriett’s giggle just reaches her, and she turns her head so they can look at each other. 

“Your breath smells like rum,” she slurs, “Th’s hot.” 

Then she turns fully, her whole body presses forward into Barb’s, and she has to take a step back to keep from knocking into the people behind her. Her arms wrap around Harriett to keep her steady as well, the other woman clearly having enough to drink tonight. It’s apparent in her breath and the way she can’t quite focus her gaze on Barb. She’s grinning and Barb smiles back politely. 

“Why don’t I take you home?” she suggests, and Harriett’s grin widens as she nods. Her hands cup around Barb’s jaw, then drag down to her arms so she can pull her out of the crowd. She almost takes them out of the club before Barb can pay their tab. 

The street is a lot less populated when they get out. Barb checks her watch and sees it’s almost two in the morning. She looks around, before dragging Harriett to a nearby empty alley. Harriett stumbles around, frowning at the brick walls, and Barb has to snap her fingers a few times to get her attention. 

“Hey!” she says, “Is there a back way to get to your place from here? I’ll run us there.” 

At that, Harriett’s smile is back. She lifts her hand out. 

“Ring,” she says authoritatively, then sways, “Show a map of all travelways to my apartment.” 

“Travelways?” Barb says with a chuckle, but the ring knows it’s owner, and brings up a map of Coast City with alleys, bike paths, roads, and everything else highlighted for Barb to peruse and find a discrete way back. She memorizes it, and pushes Harriett’s hand away, turning her around so she can tie her hair up in a neat bun with the elastic she stuffed in her pocket before they left. 

“Okay,” she says once she’s done and step in front of her friend, back towards her, arms out, “All aboard.” 

Harriett hops on sloppily, again almost toppling them over, and Barb zooms them through the city until they reach the back alley behind Harriett’s building. She follows her friend up to make sure she won’t fall down the stairs. A few times, Harriett stops abruptly in front of her, giggling when Barb runs into her back the first time. After the third, Barb just guides her up, hands over her hips again with Harriett’s resting over them. 

 

When they finally make it inside, Harriett makes her way to her bedroom, hand dragging over the wall behind her. Barb takes a moment to fill a glass with water and grab a couple pain killers before she follows. As she enters, she notices the side table lamp has been turned on rather than the ceiling light. Harriett is sprawled over the bed, smiling wide as the light bends over the lines of her body. Barb puts the painkillers on the side table, and Harriett’s eyes open. She sees the glass of water, staring at it confusedly before a sly grin forms.  

“Yeah, you hydrate yourself, babe,” she says, “You’re gonna need it.” 

Barb furrows her brows, but chuckles, “I think you’ll need it more than me.” 

She holds it out. Harriett looks at it before sitting up and eagerly grabbing it, “Hell yeah,” 

She chugs the whole glass in one shot, dropping it carelessly onto the table when she’s done and pulling Barb closer. Barb pushes her to lie back down, reaching for her feet to take off her socks. Harriett lies still as she does it, arms slack over her head before she’s sitting up again, grabbing at Barb’s arms. She pushes her to lie down again, sighing, before she undoes the belt and button of her jeans. She tugs at them with one hand, leaving the other to make sure Harriett’s underwear doesn’t come down with them. She struggles a bit as she tries to wiggle them over Harriett’s hips, even when the other woman lifts them to help.  

“You’re bad at this,” Harriett laughs. Barb grunts as she finally tugs them down to her knees. 

“Sorry your _second skin_ is so tight,” she complains as she  _again_ has trouble getting the ankles to stretch around Harriett’s heels. She gets them off and holds them up to fold them. 

“You love it!” 

She sighs, “They are nice jeans, I’ll admit.” 

Then she turns to put them in the hamper, and makes her way to the dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer and grabbing a shirt she knows Harriett won’t mind sleeping in. She stands with it, and turns around, gasping audibly when Harriett is standing, in only her lace bra and underwear, right behind her.  

“Looking for something?” Harriett asks with a small tilt of her head. Barb concentrates on her face and only her face. Not the dark pink colouring peeking through the very thin fabric. She’s finally taken her hair out of the bun, and it falls softly down over her shoulders. Around the sharp line of her cheeks. Barb watches as she reaches her hand to cup over her cheek, thumbing gently over it before she leans in.  

“I’ll show you something much better,” Harriett murmurs, her lips so close to Barbs. 

They catch on her jaw when she twists her head to the side last minute. The hand on her face stiffens before it falls to her shoulder and Harriett leans back. Barb brings herself to look over to her friend, and sees the confusion and subsequent shame in her features as she steps back. Barb holds out the shirt and Harriett takes it, putting it on right away.  

“I need to piss,” she says, and walks out of the room. Barb hears the bathroom door close and she finally allows herself to move from her place at the dresser, robotically making her way to her overnight bag. She understands now, the past hour, and feels so stupid. At the same time, however, she feels hopeful. There’s a voice in her head telling her not to get carried away, not to think about it too much and make scenarios that won’t ever happen. Harriett is drunk and riled up from the club. She doesn’t want Barb. 

 

Or...or maybe she does.  _She has fuck buddies_. The words sneak into her mind, an undertone of Barb’s insecurity. Maybe Harriett does want her, but not in the way Barb wants  _her_.  

 

She shakes her head. That woman knows nothing about them, she tells herself over and over. In the morning, they’ll talk about it. Over and over, that’s what her mind says. 

Harriett comes back a little while later, when Barb has been lying under the covers for a good few minutes. She pauses in the doorway, and their eyes meet. She's washed her face, and her hair is tied in a messy braid. The burn scar on her left shoulder is visible where the collar of her shirt droops down. She's beautiful. Barb pats the bed beside her, and coaxes her into it softly. When she gets under the covers, Barb can see her eyes are red and swollen just before she turns her back to her. She wants to reach out, caress her arm comfortingly, but she doesn’t. She lets her turn off the lamp and tries to sleep. 

 

The next morning when she wakes up, she feels for Harriett next to her. A habit she’s picked up over time to check if the other woman has been called away for whatever reason. She doesn’t feel anyone, but she hears a sigh and opens her eyes.  

Harriett sits on the edge of the bed, still in the shirt she slept in, but her hair is damp and brushed. Before she thinks about it, Barb props herself up on her elbow and touches her back. Harriett doesn’t move, but she does tense under the touch. Barb rests her hand more firmly, rubs it up to knead into Harriett’s shoulder.  

“Come lie down,” she says, voice still sleep coated. Harriett still doesn’t move, until Barb tugs and coaxes her back. Then, she’s quickly sliding under the covers and curling herself into Barb’s side, head resting over her shoulder. Barb can smell the subtle tones of her shampoo, brushes her hair back around her ear so she can see the faded scar along her temple. She turns her head to nose at her hair, and rests there as long as she can.  

The room is silent, only the sound of their breathing and muffled traffic fills the air. Harriett fiddles with the sleeve of Barb’s pajama top, her leg moves to rest over hers, knee jutting in between them. She’s warm and soft. Barb’s heart speeds up and she squeezes her eyes shut until Harriett shifts away. She feels hair tickle her cheek, and she opens her eyes again. 

Her friend is braced on her elbow, looking down at her. The hair Barb had tucked behind her ear has fallen free, so she reaches again and tucks it back. But this time, instead of taking her hand away, she leaves it resting around her ear and jaw, thumb brushing over it gently. Harriett’s warm brown eyes search hers, and she too moves to cup at Barb’s cheek. She leans down, and this time Barb doesn’t turn away. The kiss is almost timid at first, but then Barb leans into it and Harriett presses back firmly, nose crushing into nose.   

Every part of Barb’s body melts down into the bed, and she sighs. The hand she had on Harriet’s head moves back and grasps hard at the back of it, fingers tangling in her hair. Harriett tilts her head, parting her lips just slightly to latch onto Barb’s better. They press together  _hard_ , and Barb’s eyes squeeze shut against the relief and happiness that takes over every part of her.  

Harriett pulls back first, but only to tilt her head the other way, lips latching again, tongue flicking out. Barb opens her mouth to let it in, to prod at hers – softly, then a bit harder. Then she pulls back, fingers gripping into Harriett’s hair, her other hand curled around her ribs where she can feel heavy breaths. 

“M’sorry,” she says, the words filling the minute space between them, “About last night—you were drunk. I didn’t want to--” 

Harriett stares at her, eyes intense before she’s surging forward again. The kiss is so fierce that Barb’s head tilts back with the force of it. Her tongue slides into her mouth as she reaches down, hooking her hand under Barb’s leg and hitching her up. She then places it over her hip and worms her way in between Barb’s legs, who takes the initiative to wrap her other one around her as well.  

Barb can’t help the small moan that erupts from the manhandling, her free hand joining the other in tangling at the back of Harriett’s hair. Her friend smiles into the kiss, breath huffing out in a chuckle before her tongue is back. It slides in and out and then she’s sitting back, reaching and undoing the buttons of Barb’s sleep shirt before she pauses.  

“Is this okay?” she asks, voice genuine through the huskiness. Barb gazes at her -- wide-eyed and heart pounding as she thinks of what’s hidden under the fabric. Harriett’s seen some of her scarrings, but only what can peek its way over the collar of a high-necked tank top. She’s seen small, feathered lines, not the bundling, corded mess on her chest and upper abdomen.  

She bites her lip, remembering that this is Harriett, that she has scar tissue mottling her skin too, and she won’t judge. She nods, reaching to help undo her buttons. Harriett pulls away, resting back and watching until she reaches the bottom button, then she’s pulling her own shirt over her head.  

Barb is breathless, and keeps reminding herself that she’s allowed to look this time. And she does, long and admiring. Harriett’s breasts are perfect. They droop a bit low on her chest, and they’re pleasantly rounded. Nipples pink and hard and Barb feels the sudden urge to suck them into her mouth and lick until Harriett squirms and wiggles in her lap. Her cheeks flush when her eyes meet her friend’s again and she’s grinning down at her. She apologizes, and Harriett shakes her head before pushing the fabric of her shirt to the side and exposes her.  

She sits up enough to slide it off completely, and watches Harriett’s reaction intently. She’s not as enamored looking as Barb might have been, but she’s smiling. Her hands slide up Barb’s stomach to push over her tits, and Barb arches into it. She places her hands over Harriett’s waist and squeezes, moving them down to grip into the flesh of her ass.  

That familiar grin flashes at her, tongue peeking through as Harriett presses back into the hold, leaning down to place slow, open-mouthed kisses to her sternum and ribcage. Over her scarring. She noses at it, dragging up to pull one of her nipples into her mouth. Barb arches again, brows pulling together as she gasps a short moan. Harriett tongues at the hardened nub, flicking over it. Her hand slides down until it reaches the line of Barb’s shorts, tugging playfully before she stops her ministrations and looks up at her.  

“How far do you want to go?” she asks. Barb looks at her, as she rests her head to the side over her bare chest and wonders how she got here. How she got Harriett here with her, like this – hair mussed and in only her underwear. She swallows thickly, not sure she’s okay with how fast this is all going.  

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, and Harriett only smiles and nods in understanding. But Barb doesn’t want to stop, “Can we kiss some more?” 

“Of course, babe,” Harriett replies easily. She slides her body back up until their mouths press together again. It’s different, now that they’re both topless, skin sliding against skin. Barb’s nipples are still sensitive from the teasing, and every brush of Harriett’s breasts over hers makes her want to press up more and more. Instead, she wraps her arms around her tightly, one hand coming to grip at the back of her neck and keep her kissing Barb until they run out of breath.  

And that’s how they stay, for how long, Barb doesn’t know, but it’s enough to get her own underwear sticking with wetness and Harriett moaning over and over into her mouth and neck and writhing on top of her. Her hips arch up, catching over Harriett’s thigh and chasing the friction. She keens as Harriett moves it into place so she can rub over and over. She can feel the heaving of Harriett’s chest into hers, even when she pulls away to watch her, eyes dark and mouth parted. It’s a look Barb’s never seen, but finds herself wanting more of – willing to do anything to get her to look at her like that forever. She can’t help the small vibration that starts up as her energy gets more and more pent up.  

“Oh fuck,” Harriett moans, “You can actually do that?” 

Barb nods, breathing out a heady hum, hips still working over Harriett’s thigh. 

“Can you control it?” she asks, and Barb nods again. She concentrates, calming herself so that she can pinpoint the place she wants to move, and lets her fingers buzz along Harriett’s spine. She moans deep in her chest, licking a messy kiss over Barb’s mouth as she swears. Barb lets her hands move down, lower and lower, dipping them into Harriett’s underwear and pulling it over her ass until it won’t budge over her thighs. Harriett moves almost as fast as Barb can to take them off, tossing them across the room.  

Barb bursts out laughing when she sees the lightning bolt shaved into her hair. Harriett looks down and laughs too.  

“Wishful thinking,” she jokes, then leans over her again to kiss her, “Dream come true.” 

Barb scrunches her nose, “Gross.” 

She gets a slap in the tit for that, and the mood turns a bit silly for a moment as she teases at the waist of her shorts. She wiggles where she lies, and Harriett grins at her devilishly, eyebrow raising in a dare. She slowly lifts her hips, pulling the fabric down until it reaches just over where her outer labia shows, then Harriett finishes the job for her. Grabbing and tugging them down her legs, tossing them in the same direction as her underwear. She then grabs her legs, lifting them up and spreading her as she moves to lie between them. Her eyes watch Barb’s the entire time, looking for any sign of hesitation, but Barb is ready now. She's craving any sort of touch. She wants her tongue or her fingers. Something inside of her. Her lips clench as she thinks about what’s coming, and she vibrates a little. 

Harriett takes her time, running her hands over Barb’s thighs and placing teasing kisses everywhere but where it counts. She darts her eyes up from admiring what’s in front of her to smirk up at Barb, before her fingers touch gently at Barb’s lips and spreads them to reveal her. She leans down and licks gently at first, testing, and more firmly when Barb lets out a short, yelping moan.  

She continues, alternating between flicking her tongue in  _just the right way_ over her clit, and placing large wet licks to her folds. Barb tries to stifle her sounds, but they escape all the same. Her thighs clench and squeeze together, enough that Harriett has to use a hand to hold one down as she works. Barb doesn’t know what to do with her hands, too out of it from pleasure to really think about it. But at some point, she guides them to hold Barb’s legs apart and up, and she produces a tube of lube from  _somewhere_.  

She gets the go-ahead before she slicks up her fingers, moving back to slide one in as her tongue continues to play with Barb’s clit. Barb arches when it slides out again, curling up and just brushing against that spot inside of her. Harriett’s other hand dives to her own folds, rubbing softly as she moans, continuing her motions, in and out.  

She adds another finger, then a third when Barb is ready, movement speeding up as Barb’s noises get louder and louder. She stops her licking, sitting up to lean over her friend and watch her as she finger fucks her. The hand at her own folds speeds up, too, before slowing so she can flare the ring to life. It produces a bullet toy, that she brings to vibrate at Barb’s clit. She spasms. 

“Too much, too much,” she gasps, relaxing back as the vibration lessens to a point she can greatly appreciate, “Right there.” 

She’s close, with the consistent, amazing fingers in her, and the pulsing from the construct. She just needs one more thing. Pulling at Harriett’s shoulder she brings her back in for a kiss, and reaches down to replace her hand with her own, now vibrating fingers. Harriett moans loud and deep into the kiss, hips jerking over and over into the buzzing.  

Barb comes first, hard and better than she’s ever experienced in her life. It spreads like a wildfire through her. From her core right down to her toes and tips of her fingers. She cries out over and over, mouth detaching from Harriett’s as she throws her head back. And that’s all it takes for her friend to come too, cries matching hers. Her ring hand grabs Barb’s wrist to keep the vibration steady as her hips work through it.  

After, the contruct fades, and Harriett slides her fingers carefully out of Barb. She collapses onto her, but Barb doesn’t care. Her body feels like jell-o, and she’s not really sure if she’ll be able to get up anytime soon. She wants to hold Harriett to her, keep her in place when she rolls off of her, but she can’t bring herself to get her arms to move.  

“Oh my god,” she says, and Harriett laughs, agreeing with a hum. She brings her arms to bend behind her head and sprawls her legs out. 

“Yeah,” she breaths, “That’s why the ladies love me.” 

Barb forces a laugh at that, but now that’s she’s in the post-coital haze, it doesn’t sit right in her head. Even as Harriett turns and cuddles up into her side. She closes her eyes as the words from last night swirl in her mind again.  

 _She has fuck buddies_. 

She frowns, and tries not to think about it. Fingers play softly over her breast and down her abs, tracing over the lines of her scar. She opens her eyes again and trains them on where Harriett rests over her chest. She’s smiling, big and genuine, teeth showing. Then she’s leaning up, bringing herself over Barb and trailing her clean hand over her cheek.  

“What?” Barb asks, voice quiet. 

“I just--,” she cuts herself off, shaking her head. But she’s still smiling, lips and cheeks flushed pink, glowing brown eyes crinkling at the corners. The words are forgotten. Tossed in the figurative trash where they belong. Barb beams at her, reaching to push her head down to rest their foreheads together. Their noses brush, and they kiss.  


	2. pt two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harriett overthinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was sitting in my drafts almost done so i doned it

Harriett can’t believe her fucking _luck_. She really can’t comprehend how this came to be, but—here it is! Here  _she_  is, asleep in her bed, arms curled up over her head as she snores softly. Her sleep shirt is unbuttoned; breasts exposed along with that beautiful twining scar.  

She reaches and brushes a lock of sandy blonde hair from her forehead, letting her smile grow as Barb makes a small noise in her throat. She shifts her hips when it reminds her of the noises she made earlier in the evening when Harriett’s head was between her legs and she was knuckle deep in her for the third time that day. She wishes she could afford a strap-on, a new one she didn’t use with Carol or a dozen other women – and a couple of dudes. Barb deserves new, and she deserves everything Harriett could ever give her. More than that. 

She frowns, looking away for a brief moment as the thoughts enter her head.  _You’re not good enough_.  _You’ll never be good enough. She’ll figure that out soon_. 

When she turns back, Barb is shifting again. Her hand slides down and she rubs hard at her nose and cheek before her eyes blink open. Harriett smiles at her, hiding the turmoil in her head. It turns genuine when Barb’s lips turn up in response, her other hand coming down to cover her nipples with her shirt.

“What?” she asks at Harriett’s grin.

She shakes her head, “Nothing.” 

Then she pulls her over by the waist, turning her into her body. Barbs hands come to rest on her chest, just above her own naked breasts, then move to slide over them to press over her ribs and stomach. She sighs, cupping at Barb’s ass and bringing her hips to settle against hers comfortably. Barb kisses her – quickly, lips wrapping around Harriett’s lower one and pulling away before she can respond. Her hair is a mess on top of her head. The usually perfectly combed strands fluffed and horribly tangled at the back while the rest is flattened in spots and sticking up in others. Harriett knows her own curls likely look horrid right now too, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t think about the work that will go into getting them detangled later. All she can focus on are the beautiful blues, crinkling at the corners, gazing at her like she’s -- like  _she’s_  -- 

She presses forward, lips crushing into Barb’s and the other woman lets out a startled laugh but kisses back all the same. When Harriett slides her mouth to the side and along her cheek and jaw and covers her body with her own, she sighs happily and lets it happen. Wraps strong arms around her and tilts her head back and over. Her shirt slides back down around her and Harriett moves to push it off again. It gets down to her elbows before she forgets it and works her way down to cup at those small, perky tits and presses them together as she kisses at her sternum.  

Barb sighs with a small yelping moan, hands drifting through her hair as she breaths out a soft, “ _Honey_.” 

The endearment makes Harriett wet. She noses into the scar tissue in front of her, her hands squeezing where she’s moved them to Barb’s waist. The other woman pushes her head away from her stomach, away from continuing another amazing session.  

“I’m a bit sore,” she admits when Harriett pouts. She flicks a finger over that bottom lip, “We have all the time in the world.” 

Harriett’s heart seizes unpleasantly in her chest, but she nods anyway. She moves back up to lie on top of Barb, face to face. Barb gazes softly up at her, tucking her hair behind both ears as much as she can, chuckling when half of it won’t stay. Her breath is horrible and Harriett cringes a bit but bears it just to see that beautiful smile.  

“We should wash up,” Barb suggests, “We probably stink. My face feels so greasy.” 

Harriett hums in consideration, props her chin onto her hands and pretends to think about it, “Nah.” 

Barb rolls her eyes, “I’ll help you with your hair.” 

That tips the scales in her favour. Harriett loves when she stays at Barb’s place, and her friend stands behind her as she sits at the kitchen table and carefully, patiently detangle the strands with her fingers, then scrunches and diffuses the way Harriett taught her. 

She plays with it afterward, sometimes. That’s what Harriett likes the best. She will tell her to style it, fluff it up and make it as voluminous as she could and Barb does so happily. She sighs and coos over how beautiful her hair is, how she wishes she had thick hair, had curls or waves, could do something with hers to make it look as healthy and nice as Harriett’s own.  

And Harriett always tilts her head back and listens as long, gentle fingers work and calm her. She’ll shrug and smirk, and not say anything about how she hates how much  _work_ has to go into it to make it look nice. The thought and effort. How many times she’d looked at the buzzers in the pharmacy and seriously considered just shaving it all off  --  the only thing making her walk away is the thought of losing those moments. Her _favourite_ moments.  

After some carefully feigned thought, she nods at the offer, and they get up for the first time since Barb ran to France for their snack of bread and cheese and wine earlier. 

By the time they clean up and Barb is finished playing with her hair – and Harriett is finished pushing her to random surfaces for short make-outs – it's too late in the night to do anything but patrol the city. They suit up and search for any trouble, making their way to Central after nothing that the cops can’t handle pops up on their radar.  

There they find some bank robbers with some sort of sonar guns. They knock Barb back about two blocks when they hit her, and Harriett wreaks a mighty hell upon those thugs. They call her ‘bitch’ and ‘cunt’ enough to make her see red. But then streaks of yellow seep through it, and before she knows it Barb has the assholes tied up and knocked out for the cops to deal with when they show up. 

She rushes off afterward, and they meet back up atop the Central City Public Library. Barb looks out over her city, lit up bright in the night, always moving -- it never stops, just like it’s saviour.  

Landing behind her, Harriett takes a moment to observe, or rather  _admire_ , now that’s she can without consequence. Barb’s costume is practical, like the woman herself. Made from friction resistant material that conforms to her body. Wraps around her ass and thighs like a second skin.  

Harriett appreciates how powerful it makes her look. The way it broadens her shoulders accentuates the strength in her limbs. She loves how the yellow lines lengthen them. How the cowl hides her identity but still shows off those comforting blue eyes and that friendly smile that kids seem to gravitate toward. She looks like everything a superhero should be, everything the job represents. Harriett is proud and grateful just to be able to work by her side. Call her an ally, let alone a friend or—or her  _girlfriend_. 

 

They never really had that conversation yet; she realizes as she floats closer. Not that Harriett really wanted to let them have that time, opting to live in the moment she already had instead of the moments she might not get. 

Her feet touch down softly on the rooftop beside Barb. Leaning forward, she rests her arms on the cement ledge in front of them, staring out into the night. She feels a sharp breeze and Barb is next to her, shoulder pressing into shoulder. Her lip turns up. 

“Today was nice,” she comments casually. Suddenly, her hand is in Barb’s, fingers tangling loosely. 

“Yeah, it was,” her companion replies in a soft sigh. Harriett makes herself look over. Barb’s leaning into one of the crenellations, her other hand brought up to fiddle mindlessly at the line of her cowl like she does Harriett’s fingers. Her smile is big and gentle, eyes crinkling at the corners as she watches the traffic and lights. 

Harriett opens her mouth, nothing coming out at first before she’s able to speak, “Be nice to do it again.” 

She drops her gaze down to her hands immediately after, not wanting to see any reaction. But the fingers tighten around hers and Barry huffs a laugh. 

“Would be, yeah.”  

Harriett bites at the inside of her lip, “How about next week? Saturday night, we can go for dinner, maybe a movie?” 

As she considers it, Barb’s nose wrinkles up. She squints, mouth twisting this way and that. It triggers that slow, creeping doubt in Harriett’s chest as she considers how she maybe misread everything. Somehow, with all the signs pointing to yes, she embarrasses herself. Because Barb has always been kind and soft with her. Tactile in ways she wasn’t with anyone else. But Barb was also a bit oblivious with those things too. Sending signals to men and women that she didn’t know she was sending. Was Harriett falling into that trap too? 

Barb smiles at her then, sheepish.  

“Movies are too slow.” She says, biting her lip, “How about I take you dancing again?” 

Harriett beams despite the still swirling doubts. She takes a moment to look away, down at their hands and past them to the bustle below. When she looks back, Barb’s eyes watch her expectantly.  

“Cool,” she replies casually, nodding her head. She untangles her hand, sliding it up to cup at Barb’s cheek before she lowers the cowl and steps forward. She wills away her green mask and puts on a different, more sultry and suave one instead. 

“I’ll treat you to a private dance after.” She purrs, leaning in to kiss the flustered quirk off Barb’s lips. 


End file.
